The Black Pearl
by siriuswriter
Summary: Behind every man, there is a woman. Jack Sparrow may claim that his woman is his ship, The Black Pearl. But there was a time when he was not a pirate, and The Black Pearl did not exist. Who, then, was the woman that made Jack change forever? JOC


Captain Jack Sparrow didn't know it yet, but later tonight there would a meeting with an old friend that would change the course of his life for the worse. He knew that his thirteen years were up, but he had no idea when the messenger, or perhaps even the Kraken, would be sent to hunt him down.

No, this was not on Jack's mind at the moment, neither yet were the bottles of rum lined up against the wall. Something round and dark was rippling through his fingers as he sat at his desk, his feet propped up and airing, suddenly released from the oppressive darkness of his boots.

Jack brought the small object twiddling to a stop between his right thumb and forefinger, holding the rest of his fingers out in a small fan as he brought his hand close to his face, and shut his left eye to get a better look at it.

It was about the size of a bullet, and the same color as one as well. He took his hand away from his face and held it out again, letting it catch and reflect the light from the large oil lamp hanging from the ceiling.

Jack Sparrow sighed, then placed the small object in the middle of his desk.

It was a black pearl.

ooooo

It had been almost fourteen years ago when he first saw his first pearl, on quite a different background. His ship was not yet the _Pearl_, but the _Britannia_, and his appearance was not yet as exotic. In fact, Jack was wearing a pressed uniform and brown wig, pulled back with a blue ribbon. Atop his head was a tricorn lined with gold brain, and his right hand was at his forehead in a salute.

"At ease, Captain," a voice said near him, and Jack let the hand fall to his side, still holding himself straight in the presence of his superior officer. Commodore Beckett nodded at Jack, and allowed him a small smile.

"Captain, may I present to you my fiancée, Margaret Hamilton. I am on my way back to England, but she has expressed an interest in learning more about the industry in which we are both involved, and you are one of our best."

A fair-skinned, petite woman was now being helped onto the _Britannia_, clutching her dress in one hand, and gripping onto another officer's white-gloved hand as she stepped aboard.

Beckett smiled upon seeing her. "Ah, darling, here you are now. I was just telling Captain Sparrow here," he nodded at Jack, "about your request."

"We will be glad to take you aboard, Madame," Jack bowed. "You may occupy my quarters, I'm afraid they're the only decent ones on the ship. No offense to the Royal Navy, of course."

Beckett laughed. "None taken. I, too, know how cramped ships' quarters can be." He looked fondly over at the woman, who was patting her auburn hair into place. She finished, and then went to stand beside her fiancé, holding a cream-gloved hand out to Captain Sparrow. Politely, he took it and raised it to his lips in a practiced gesture.

"Captain Sparrow," she said. "Charmed, I'm sure."

"A pleasure to meet you, Madame."

Commodore Beckett gazed at them both, beaming broadly. "Excellent," he said, nodding. "I can tell that you two are going to get along swimmingly. And I'm terribly sorry I have to leave, but when Mother England calls, one must, of course, answer."

"It's quite all right, Cutler," Margaret Hamilton spoke, putting her hand on his jacket shoulder. "I'm quite sure that the Captain is more than enough capable of teaching me what I wish to know about your business."

Jack nodded eagerly. Indeed, anything to get him up the ladder more quickly would be welcomed and completed satisfactorily and efficiently. He turned his head to nod at his first mate, James Norrington. "Mr. Norrington, please take Miss Hamilton's things to my cabin. I will be sure to have my effects out before the evening, Miss Hamilton. I assure you, you will be quite comfortable there. The Captain and the Commodore stood side by side, watching Margaret move deeper onto the ship. Commodore Beckett looked as if he were going to burst with pride, but he turned after a moment toward Jack.

"Captain, how is your maiden voyage going?"

"We are just about to head for the African coast, Commodore. Your instructions are explicit and concise. I forsee no problem in our dealings with the cargo."

"Yes, well. Pack them in tight, we always lose around fifty on the voyage back. You're sure you have enough provisions?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Well, Captain Sparrow, welcome to the Royal Navy, and good luck to you. Thank you again for taking this little hindrance in stride."

"It is no hindrance, sir."

Cutler smiled, and patted Sparrow on the back. "Well, I must be off," he said, and turned round toward the rail where his longboat was hanging, ready to be lowered back into the water and rowed back to his own ship. He nodded to his crewmen, and they set off.

Miss Hamilton, who had observed all of the exchange, walked to the rail and waved a white handkerchief at the longboat until she could see it no more, clutching at her neck all the while.

It was then that Jack noticed what her hand was holding : a beautiful string of tiny white pearls, long enough to reach halfway down her bodice. He reminded himself to tell her how to store her valuables; most of the crew was not as honorable as himself or First Mate Norrington, and he didn't want to see those pretty pearls clutched in the dirty hand of one of his crew.

He would tell her about that at dinner this evening, Jack thought, and then he retreated to his cabin to haul his effects to the crew's sleeping quarters.


End file.
